


into the darkness

by edotfaust



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 01:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edotfaust/pseuds/edotfaust
Summary: All the stories said that the gallows called, but to Julian, they sounded more like a scream.





	1. Chapter 1

All the stories said that the gallows called, but to Julian, they sounded more like a scream.

Or perhaps that was the crowd of spectators, their leers and yells becoming a ghastly chorus as loud as his raging heart in his ears. Sweat dripped down his forehead and coated his bare hands. His hands, pale white and exposed to the world that expected them to be forever stained red. Precious few were satisfied by the black murderer’s brand on the back of his hand in comparison to his crime.

As it was, the only thing his hands remembered was the warmth of the apprentice’s face. Julian curled his hands into fists to hide their shaking, even if he could feel his expression betray his raw struggle to remain upright. He walked, one foot in front of the other, guards surrounding him, and the hangman’s noose casting a shadow in the dying daylight.

If he had to die, Julian supposed, he was grateful to do it when the stars glimmered in the sky above him. He always preferred the darkness and the security it brought him. Nights gave him the chance to meet with the apprentice, after all, and the sweetness of their mouth was more than satisfying for the ghastly threat hanging over their heads.

The memories kept him from falling to his knees. He needed to make it to the platform for the promise to see them again. He had very little else here in Vesuvia, besides his little sister. Asra was merely a ghost now, unresponsive to Julian’s questions and begging, and he had vanished just hours after returning.

As much as Julian loved to see Asra crushed by emotional distress, the price was not worth it. Seeing Asra lose all the color in his face was not worth watching the apprentice crumple to the ground like a puppet cut of its strings. Knowing that Asra’s broken heart was being cradled only by his ribs was not worth the constant reel of memories playing in Julian’s head.

Nothing was worth watching the apprentice step forward and beg Nadia for Julian’s life, only for a nervous guard to strike out at them with a swipe of his sword. He had watched them scrambled to save the apprentice’s life, begging to be brought to their side. He watched the apprentice grow limp, blood staining the polished marble underneath them, and he had watched them die.

Julian watched them bleed to death, his curse burning his throat as sharply as his tears did, and he had felt the most overwhelming type of anger. He loathed Asra for this curse because it came with the knowledge that he had the power that no one else had, to save them, but he couldn’t even do that.

Perhaps Nadia was surprised by how willingly Julian allowed himself to be dragged to the dungeons after that. Every ounce of rebellion drained away from him. After all, a hanging was more acceptable when he knew that it was a punishment not for Lucio’s death, but for theirs.

Everything fell away from him the closer he got to the platform. Every single step washed away the sounds of the bloodthirsty spectators and the list of crimes the warden read from. Julian could only see the rope with his fate written on it, and the promise it brought.

“Do you have any last words, Doctor Devorak?”

Julian had hundreds, but none of them were for the people in this audience. The people he wanted to speak to were both ghosts of different definitions that had been swept away by something out of his control.

Yet when a soft breeze gently brushed away a wayward lock of his hair from his face, Julian couldn’t help it. He hoped they were listening.

“My name is Ilya,” he said.

When the noose was laid around his neck, the call sounded like the apprentice’s voice saying his name, sweet and achingly familiar. Julian smiled, and the world fell out from under his feet.


	2. into the light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian, in his next life, is annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of the apprentice and Julian being ghosts as Couple Goals was inspired by @doctormctiddy on Tumblr.

Julian loved pain, savored it. His death, however, was far too quick to process. Whoever tied the noose knew the correct way to knot the rope and grant him an instant death.  
He knew it was just an instant because in one short breath he fell and hit the ground feeling lighter than the air around him. He knew death had won its long arduous battle because he could hear the sweetest song in front of him.

  
“Ilya!” The apprentice crouched down beside Julian, frowning. They asked him if he was alright, but every single word fled from Julian’s mouth. He could only see the breathtaking constellations in their eyes. He wondered why he ever thought the night sky could compare to the life and light their eyes offered him.

A pair of warm hands cupped his face lovingly, and finally Julian gasped like a man saved from drowning. He said their name as it was: a life preserver with the melody of a symphony. They smiled at him and Julian was sure what remained of his weak heart broke in his chest.

He pulled them into a crushing hug, burying his face in the crook of their neck. Their arms held him even closer, every available space between their bodies thankfully disappearing. Julian had had enough of every cursed inch of space between them.

“I’m here, Ilya,” they whispered. Their fingers combed through his unruly hair, a habit from the nights Julian couldn’t sleep because it would calm him to feel the gentle touch. “You don’t have to say that.”

Julian didn’t realize he was babbling apologies until they shushed him. Perhaps that was why he could barely catch his breath. Part of him feared to lose this, losing them, forever, even after he died. That would be a true punishment after all.

He could feel them kissing the crown of his head gently, and he shuddered. It didn’t matter who or what decided the punishments, or lack thereof, Julian deserved. He would never be separated from them again.

When he pulled back from their tight embrace, they paused, confused by his sudden movement. Then he met them in a rough kiss that left his chest burning with a hope he had lost, and they smiled against his mouth.

* * *

As it turned out, death’s final frontier was the palace.

Not that Julian particularly cared, at least not at first. He could ignore the glittering chandeliers and shining marble floors that haunted his nightmares. He could ignore the nasty snarling that followed him when he walked past the staircase as Lucio’s hounds languished on the marble steps.

He could even ignore the way his heart squeezed in agony as Portia silently cried during her long work days and long sleepless nights. At least he had enough control over his new apparition to gently brush away her frizzled red hair from her face in a poor attempt at comfort.

He could not, however, ignore the one thing he most wanted to.

The problem, as usual, was that Lucio did not ask for attention; he demanded it. His attitude reminded Julian why he did not weep when he realized that the Count burned to death.

“My wife was always persistent.”

It was this conversation again. One that made Julian’s stomach knot in a fierce burning anger. If he was alive, his cheeks would be red with fury. When he first met Lucio, he wondered if the man spoke that way on purpose just to make Julian annoyed. As it turned out, it was simply the way the Count talked: he could make ‘my wife’ sound synonymous with ‘my chair’ or any other type of favored property, really.

Julian settled for a sharp glare to convey his exasperation. Lucio was pointedly ignoring it as he sat on the edge of Julian’s old desk. A desk that now served as Portia’s favored writing space, since Nadia had cleared all of his things out of the space as he hung from the gallows.

Even if it was not Julian’s, anymore, it was his sister’s, and he was nearly blinded by annoyance watching the former Count sitting on the worn oak surface. It was even worse that Lucio surveyed the hidden study with a look of contempt.

“It’s no wonder why a cure was never found. I cannot even see my own hand in this dreary space.” Lucio held his gauntlet hand little distance from his face in such an exaggerated fashion that Julian had to look away and grit his teeth. He counted in his head until he could release the tension in his jaw.

“You wouldn’t be able to find your head if it wasn’t attached to your neck,” Julian muttered.

Lucio moved like a storm across the room, papers fluttering in his wake. He strode towards Julian where he leaned against the wall, snarling.

“Before you hit me,” Julian said, watching the way Lucio’s hands curled into fists. His metal hand gave the telltale click of metal at the grip. “Remember what happened _last_ time, Lucio.”

Julian’s words cast a spell that the apprentice would have been proud of. Lucio froze in his tracks, and Julian could see the calculations flying through his head. As he figured, the former Count growled in frustration and stormed out of the room, and for the best. He had thrown a fit for days after watching Julian savor the punch instead of sobbing over it.

“That was very diplomatic of you,” the apprentice said from the doorway. Julian startled at the sound of their voice, but then he smiled widely.

“Ah, you know me. Always a hero.” Julian traded the sarcasm without a blink, watching the apprentice cross the room towards him with a thrill of satisfaction. The way they looked at him gave him a jolt he never wanted to end. Their hands reached out and traced the bare skin of his chest, setting the nerves in their wake aflame with an intensity that made Julian shiver.

His own hands cupped their face, and as he leaned down to kiss them he saw movement over their head. Thinking that Lucio returned, Julian raised his head to tell the dead Count to torment the servants instead.

It wasn’t Lucio.

A figure stood in the doorway of the library, facing them. Julian felt ice poison his veins with fear. No one could see them, he had been told. Not when they had been dead for so little time. The figure pulled back their hood, and Julian’s mouth instantly went dry.

  
“I found you,” Asra whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
